enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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I embarass myself. But that is what beer is for.

I really shouldn't be writing an entry, as I'm a little bit tipsy. I know that I am a terrible writer to begin with; it seems utterly inexcusable to drink and type.

You know, come to think of it, I've never ever drunkenly dialled. Never.
And it's not as though I always had restraint when it came to men. I honestly marvel at the fact that I have recently morphed into such a nun.

Anyhow.

I don't have much to say tonight, as usual. The meeting with the government guy went very well yesterday. I talked too extensively but he was downright gossipy with me. I always take this--when it occurs with men--to be a sign of trust and comraderie. The thing is that I am an incredibly trustworthy person with talk. I mean, I'm unfailingly discreet. I really don't mean to praise myself with this--I've always chalked it up to narcissism, laziness, and a dislike of conflict. But I digress. My point here is that I find it interesting when people figure this out quickly and rely on it. It is also possible, of course, that he is simply a loose-lipped male. Those do exist.
He brought me chocolates, too, which was weird. For some reason, however, it seemed a simple, old-fashioned gesture of politeness. Nothing strange or out of the ordinary, even though it was so.

I found myself sinking into boredom and despair again this evening, and a classmate of mine seized me out of it. I didn't have to say anything-- he simply cajoled me into the grad club and bought me a Leffe Brune. I should marry him.

Well, that's enough of my drunken drooling for this evening. I must drink some water and get to bed reasonably soon. Physiotherapy on my hip begins tomorrow morning. I was shocked to hear my classmates say today that they dislike physio. Physio is my friend.

Actually...before I depart...and this is a huge aside... I did have one very weird experience with physio. I had completely forgotten it until this moment. When I was still running well and living in Vancouver in 2000 I had an emergency piriformis injury that needed to be treated so that I could compete with a national team in Yokohama. I was sent to one of the physios for the national ski team who sort of molested me. Actually, since at the end of our third or fourth treatment session he asked me to join him in Europe to drive around for a month or so after the meet, he was probably hitting on me.

I had forgotten about that.

I am truly not a good-looking woman so I do not mean to be conveying an alternate impression. I say this because I am suddenly recalling a similar experience with a Japanese physio who treated me a half-dozen times at different events and then professed through a translator--much to my extreme bewilderment--undying love for me.

(I understand in my tipsy haze why physiotherapists please me!)

Oh how tired I am. But not too tired to go out in the garden to pick some fresh lily-of-the-valley for the bud vase by my bed.

I have one last thing to say: Whenever I drink a Belgian beer it reminds me of drinking and riding bikes with my friend Eric, over the cobblestones of Leuven. It's delightful.

11:26 p.m. - 2006-05-16

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